Created with Grok by xAI
Gathered by the fire
Warm and content
On thick, grey plush
Buttery, salty fingertips
And scattered game pieces
As that low repeating drum roll
Pierced the long dark night.
Echos of centuries past
When Washington’s lads
Crossed the fields
On their way to a certain frozen death.
About the Creator
Jscholar
Editor, writer, music lover, & sometime scholar with an attitude problem carefully nurtured over decades.
genxcalling.com
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